


Hoof Prints On My Heart (working title)

by aronoiiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22900012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronoiiel/pseuds/aronoiiel
Summary: Fingolfin returns to valinor. His family is healing. Learning to be happy again. His nephew has formed a bond deeper with him than before. Yet. Grief is slowly killing the former King. One was not returned to him. One whom has seen him.through things that would have destroyed a lesser being. Can Fingolfin be saved from his grief? (working description lol I am no good at these things)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am planning on rewriting this. Its disjounet and deffinitely needs flushed out. But I was on my phone XD more chapters ro come as well. Sorry if it makes little sense.

_The dream began as it always had. He was standing upon the bow of the ship. He remembered the soft calls of the gulls welcoming them home. The cries and shouts of loved ones hoping the ones they ached for were on the ships. He remembered the hollow rock sitting within his stomach. The faint sound of a playful whinny. The beautiful companion he had shared all of his misery and triumphs with had turned from the boats. And ran from him. He remembered. The tears cooling on his flushed cheeks. His son's solid hand upon his shaking arm. The boat bumped the shore but he did not feel as though he were home._

Maedhros threw his head back and laughed as Fingon made a ridiculous set of dance moves. Fingolfin sat quietly upon the small fountain, hand in the cold water. The sensation numbing the images of his dreams. The agonized feelings built behind his crumbling fortifications. It had been an age since they were welcomed home to Valinor. And age since the dreams had begun to haunt his every moment. His son and nephew had been making many steps to recovery, though Nelyo refuses to go to any crowded place still. Understandably. They were settling in well.

Yet. He could find no such thing.

Anairë watched him worriedly throughout their return. He knew she felt the emptiness within. He loved and missed her deeply. It was. They had an awkward reunion filled with many misteps. Yet, managed to fit themselves together again. Despite the hole that seemed to sit within him. He frowned as the playful, content nature of the children did not seem to light his core as it once had.

The sound of familiar soft footfalls drew a mournful sigh from him. The sounds reminding him of gentle clip clops of a soft heart. A quiet sob joined the tear sliding down beside his nose. "Nolo. You will not find the healing you need here." His Lady's soft voice accompanied the petal soft finger catching his sorrow as it dripped from his chin.

Anairë knew, the moment she had embraced her Lord. She felt the endless chasm in his Fëa. Observed the dulled spark in his Light. Worried that the grief he was doing all in his power to avoid would eat away every bit of who he once was. And she was not sure how to force him to face it. Nor was she positive he would choose to.

His gentle hand left the cold waters of their fountain. She immediately embraced it bringing it to her tunic to dry and warm the ice cold appendage. "I will not tell you to face that which you run from. You know well I am here for you. No matter the situation Nolo. As your closest friend. Confidant. One who has and will love and support you through all that has happened. I will ask you once more. Will you not seek the healing necessary to stop what is slowly taking you from those you care for?"

He leaned his head against her hip. Allowing her voice to balm the deep ache in his Fëa. The feeling of her solid form bringing the ghost of a soft head settling against his own. A gentle sound of concern rumbling from an equine chest echoed in his thoughts."I do not know how to ease this growing emptiness, Anairë." His voice broke with his words. Guilt danced on the edges of his agony like the glittering accent of a shredded tunic.

His Lady places her hand upon his head. Sliding it down his hair as she once did to her elflings when they were upset. "Nor do I. Estë may provide a path." She felt his shudder. The drop in his body's heat. Her heart broke for him. Her Fëa quelled at the feeling of his flickering. Her eyes sought the children who were making rather strange hand motions. Neither of them would survive the loss should Nolo choose to continue this path. She would not-"please Nolo."

Fingolfin's eyes had slid closed as salty warm tears made wet tracks down his face. Anairë provided shelter for his grief. Wise words spoken from a worried heart. His nephew needed his strength. His son depended on his stability. His Lady could stand on her own, had stood on her own. He did not wish to force that on her again.

"I will seek Estë." He whispered. The gentle nicker of Rochallor echoing in his ears.


	2. Sorrow's Journey Begins With A Gentle Nudge

The fire crackled and spit as the logs crumbled and fell onto one another. He frowned. When had he built a fire? He did not remember why he had even bothered. He did not look to it though. Kept his eyes trained on the twinkling lights above. His mind traveling the sky connecting points to form a familiar face. His chest pulled. His stomach turned. He missed his friend more deeply than he had ever though possible. He knew his family worried for him. Knew this was slowly eating away at what once was an unquenchable light within. His memories traveled back to the morning. When he had been watching the new herd graze fields that once were commanded by a horse none would deny. That morning three weeks ago when he had set out on this journey to find his peace.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Maedhros pulled his blankets closer to his chilled body as he observed his uncle. Fingolfin had been standing quietly upon the balcony, over looking the fields their herd often summered in. Several of the mares had foaled this season. The playful little horses were running about causing a mess of trouble for their mother’s to keep track of. His uncle had been watching them since the early morning. The noon day meal arrived, still sat upon the table it was left upon. Untouched. Maedhros was so unsure how to approach Fingolfin in this state. Knew that, if it were him, he would want quiet companionship not a litany of questions. So he sat. Watched. Waited. And worried.

Fingon stood within their apothecary helping his mother organize the new herbs brought from the market days ago. The discord within his parents relationship had noticeably settled. The growing shadows upon his father’s shoulders had not. He knew his amme was worried for him. He was worried for him. He did not speak of it to any other than Maedhros. His father would speak when he spoke. Instead he kept himself busy. Focused his energy on his cousin’s healing. Until now, when the grief was overtaking the very light that kept him safe and warm.

“Amme. is there nothing that we can do to aid him?” He was unable to keep the desperate sadness from his voice.

Anaire paused in her motions, offering a sad smile to her son. “We are doing what we are able Finno.” Her arms ached to embrace him. Covered in the herbs as they were it was to dangerous. Instead she chose to take up a song. One that often was requested by their elflings when sad. She would pack for her Lord that evening. Had planned each and every small thing that would go into the bundle. Had cleaned and set out his hardier boots. She knew he would not ride. Her heart gave a soft flutter at the thought. The walk would be long. She wondered if it was wise to allow him this alone. Yet. She knew it to be his choice. “He will leave in the morning. Stay with him this eve. You and Nelyo have done much to give him focus and desire. Remind him of what he is capable. And he deserves the healing he will seek.”

He smiled softly, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “We will Amme.” Once they had finished he had cleaned up. Embraced his mother. Joined his cousin in the sitting room where his father still watched the herds in the far fields. His heart cried at the sight. Settling on the bed beside Nelyo he burrowed in next to his cousin in his nest of blankets. And waited.

The morning dew sparkled upon the flowers lining the path he would walk. Guilt danced playfully around the storm of grief brewing in him. His Lady had worked tirelessly to prepare everything he would need. To ensure he would be safe and secured on his long journey. He simply stared at his path. Wondered if he were not making a mistake. Worried what would come to his family should he not find his peace. Guilt gnawed at his mind knowing he would leave his son to the task of supportive guardian for his cousin. Nelyo had made such incredible strides to his recovery. Yet he still need much support and solidarity. He worried Nelyo would think him abandoned. A phantom grazed his neck. The warm, soft nose snuffling with a gentle nicker. Rochallor had ever pulled him from overwhelming negative thoughts. His chest clenched sharply.

Somewhere in his mind he felt his son come to stand beside him. Felt the warmth upon his arm as Finno leaned his head against him. Guilt ripped through his sorrow once more. Was his family not enough to do what his closest friend once did for him? “I will be sure Nelyo does no become bored.” he joked. Fingolfin smiled slightly and leaned his head against his son’s. “I am proud of you Finno. And grateful for the endless support you show him.” His mind winced. That was more impersonal than he intended. He knew his son would not take offense. This endless pit within his chest ached dully.

Anaire watched them quietly before approaching with his pack. “All will be well here. Nelyo and Finno surely will not allow themselves to fall into restlessness. Should I discover they need anything you know I will provide it at haste.” Her Lord’s worry over his nephew had served to numb the grief that now resurfaced with his growing recovery. The bond that had grown between the three had strengthened in ways that built new foundations for each of them. Nelyo may no know it, but he had kept Nolo from succumbing to the full depths of the sorrow that haunted him. “Finno has done much to prepare to step into your work until you have returned. I have experience enough to aid him.”

He turned suddenly embracing both his Lady and his son. Tears danced along his cheeks dripping into the beautiful hair of two of the beings that had kept him from losing himself so completely to this. They stood there until Maedhros approached wrapped in Nolo’s favorite thick cloak. Reaching a hand out he invited his nephew into the embrace. Pride and love bloomed full in his heart as Maedhros did not hesitate submitting himself with a warm smile to the gesture. The warmth of the morning brought to them a peace and solidarity that buoyed Fingolfin’s unsure heart. It was time. He cupped his son’s cheek. Kissed his Lady’s hand gratefully. And offered his hand to his nephew reveling in the warmth they shared.

Hiking his pack up he turned and began down his uncertain path. His mind bringing for the familiar sounds of hooves thudding upon the dirt path beside him drawing a broken sound from his throat.


	3. Forest of Memeories

Lorien was naught but a few weeks ride from their home. He chose to walk. Nolofinwe had no desire to reach his destination quickly. The time would give him the chance to settle his heart enough to accept the reasoning for his journey. He had ridden many beautiful, kind horses since his loss. All felt his sorrow. All wished to aid in his healing. None could reach through the shroud over his heart. He had wondered if it were his own stubborn will. Each time he would attempt to force a connection something pulled him back. Drowned the desire as the land is drowned in a rainstorm. The paths he chose were rough. Not so well worn. It would keep others from wondering into his misery.

He paused. The faint sound of a horse’s bellow wafting with a breeze. Rochallor would not approve of his mood. Nor his reluctance to accept another of his herd. He smiled softly. Indeed his friend would be offended that none seemed to suit his heart. “Tis no fault of your kin that brings me to this journey, my friend.” He turns his face up. Relishes the cool breeze on his flushed skin. His mind imagining a slow trot through the fields of Arda. No. His Roch would not approve of his heart’s agony anymore than he approved of his friend’s fate from his reckless actions. Bitterness stung the peace creeping into his torrential thoughts. No less reckless than his own brother’s actions that led them to their fate. Their line seemed doomed to repeat their rash choices.

The snapping of a branch drew battle sharpened instincts to the bare. Freezing he allowed his ears to find the direction of the movement. His eyes narrowed at his own paranoid actions. He was in little danger here. Turning slowly his gaze found that of a young elk. It peered at him quietly from beside a thick red cedar. His antlers held markings that showed him as one of Orome’s herd. Curious he bowed lightly to the beast. It was not often these herds made their way so far north. Even rarer was to find one this young not within the safety of said herd. The antlered head bowed in recognition of his action. Smiling kindly he reached into his pocket to retrieve one of the compressed snack cubes he carried for Rochallor. Sorrow pierced his chest at the memories it invoked.

Walking forward slowly he laid his hand flat before the elk. “I mean no harm my friend. It is a true pleasure to meet one of the Lord Orome’s herd so far from the Wood.” His voice was soft. His steps light and slow. The elk made a soft noise before leaving the safety of the tree. Reaching out it’s neck it nibbled lightly at the cube. Pleased at the first taste it ate gratefully. Fingolfin chuckled as the elk moved forward sniffing at his hand and nibbling at his tunic. A tear snuck it’s way down his cheek. The actions a reminder of why he was out here. “Peace my friend. I have one more you may have. I am pleased you enjoy them.” The elk happily at his other treat. And looked at Fingolfin. He was tasked to lead this elf. He should not have gotten distracted.

Turning the elk made it’s way into the trees. Fingolfin, in truth, was sad to see him leave. The energy of this elk was similar. Brought a comfort he had yet to find in another creature. He raised on eyebrow as the beast paused and turned back to him. Bellowing in his direction. “I must follow it would seem.” he muttered softly. Pulling his pack higher he began to follow him. He was puzzled on why Lord Orome had taken to leading him this way. Theses woods would lead him to the Silver Falls which fed the river that led into the Blue Lake. A significant deviation from his path to Este’s abode. Sighing he continued to follow. It mattered little when he arrived. He had not traveled these lands in far to long.

The trees grew thicker as they reached the edge of a clearing. Here the river ran low. Easy to cross. Far safer for little ones to drink. The song of the water brought forth another bittersweet memory. An elfling traveling with his mother. A playful colt at his side creating havoc when he wasn’t grazing. They had decided to travel off the path for a bit. Still in shouting distance of Amme. They had found a part of the river. And promptly fell into it. The water was higher and faster than they thought. They were pulled down some ways. Rochallor remained staunchly by his side despite the water’s force and their quickly tiring limbs. Amme had found them. On the bank exhausted. Alive. And with a new lesson under their wits. He smiled at the memory. That was the first time Rochallor had saved his life. The first time he had put his life at risk for his dearest friend. The song of these waters eased a small portion of his wounded heart.

Sitting upon the bank he watched as the elk paused looking as though he would drink from the river. Nostrils flaring, the best let out a loud call. Covering his ears Fingolfin frowned. The elk leapt over the river to the other bank. Still sitting he watched, confused. Why would it simply lead him here and leave? Clearly he was meant to stay on this side. Unsure he remained where he was. He could stand to break for a moment regardless. Dipping his hands into the water he relished the cold liquid against warm hands. Drinking of these waters was meant to aid in the thoughts flowing in the mind. To break the dams that might stop an elf’s mind and keep it roving in circles. He closed his eyes hoping it would help him reveal why he was led here.

Again the phantom sound of a soft neighing entered his mind. Sighing he opened his eyes to stare at the river’s surface. A soft nicker brought another sharp pain to his chest. His eyes settled upon the gentle river water. Narrowing his eyes he looked to a spot that shimmered in the days light. It seemed he was adding visual hallucinations to his grieving. There within the water’s flowing surface was a little colt’s face. Another soft whinny. He blinked. Slowly raising his head he looked at the shore opposite him. The soft stamp of a colt’s hoof caused a small bit of mud to fall into the river from the bank. No. This was no vision. Vision’s did not alter the reality of their surroundings.

Remaining quiet and still he observed the small colt. Painted in soft brown and white it seemed as though it were just weaned from it’s mother. Worried the little one was lost he gave a soft whistle to it. The colt tilted it’s head just slightly, it’s ears pricked forward. Curious. Confused. The colt gave a soft snort. Something strange stung at his chest. Pulled at his Fea. Behind the colt the young elk approached. This. This was what the elk lead him to find? He did not understand. Confused now he offered a different whistle to the colt. Regardless of the reason this one was far to young to be out here alone. The temperatures dropped to low. He would sleep with the little one tonight under his cloak. Tomorrow he would seek a better solution.

The colt’s ears turned back at the sound. Clearly that was an offensive set of notes. Chuckling he was reminded of when Rochallor first encountered Fingon tuning his harp. If memory served, the horse had distracted his son enough to stomp on the offensive instrument. His son was so amused at the criticism he had no heart to be angry over it. Gave him a good excuse to make a better one. “Well then my little friend.” Fingolfin said softly. “Let us try one I have not used in many centuries.” Whistling the gentle tune he would use for his own mount his eyes widened as the colt’s ears turned sharply forward. The little being’s eyes instantly focused on him. The painted body quivering slightly. The sound had clearly triggered a response.

“Lord Nolofinwe. A gift has been granted to you by those of us that deem you far more than worthy of release from the grief drowning your peace.” The deep sound of a familiar voice shook the core of his being. Turning slowly to the voice he bowed as low as his sitting position allowed him. “Lord Orome. An honor you grant me to be in your presence this day.” His words nearly choked in his throat. It was rare to see one of the Vala when not actively seeking them. His Fea quivered. It was also rarely a good sign when they actively sought you out instead of their maia bringing their message. Easing his quickening breath he itched to turn back to the colt. The soft splash of hooves prancing in water drew his eyes finally. The young elk was aiding the colt in crossing the river to them. His breath stilled. His eyes widened. Upon the shoulder of the paint lay a symbol. Of the House of Nolofinwe.


End file.
